blinded
by silfaeyn
Summary: They made a mistake, and Kel's not sure she understands what went wrong. KelDom. Sequel to Aware.
1. blinded

**Title:** blinded

**Notes: **Sequel to "Aware" - probably a good idea to read that first!

**Summary: **"Kel, sometimes grief drives people to do things they don't understand. That doesn't mean they didn't want to do it."

_Inspired by Zerrin of the Wind who asked a question that made me think. I'm not sure if this answersyour question, Zerrin, but I think my muse isn't done with this yet._

---

**blinded**

---

Keladry of Mindelan, Lady Knight and Second Commander of Third Company feels older than her twenty two years. She watches the sparrows flitting around the tall grasses of the empty field, and feels more alone than she did even as her first year as a page.

"Young Tobe will have words when he sees you've been sitting in the mud, Lady Knight."

Lord Raoul, her one time knight master and now close friend, crouches on the ground beside her, steadying himself with a large hand on her shoulder.

"I didn't ask Tobe to form an attachment to my hose," Kel says blandly, picking at a yellow daisy and shredding it with her callused fingers. "What brings you to the middle of nowhere, sir?"

"A friend," Raoul says simply. She looks at him curiously, watching as he pulls a face of disgust and settles onto the ground next to her.

"Buri will have words when she sees your hose," Kel says pertly.

Raoul grins. "Yes, but I can help her forget."

"Not everything is easy to forget," Kel says finally.

"No," Raoul agrees. "I imagine you've been told this several times already, Kel, but what happened to Neal wasn't your fault."

She knows it wasn't her fault; knows that she did everything in her power to help her friend, but sometimes even Keladry of Mindelan fails. "I know," she whispers, her throat dry and scratchy. "I know that, sir."

But knowing that doesn't change the fact that Roami is fatherless. It doesn't change the fact that Yuki is a widow, or that Kel lost her best friend.

"Has anyone ever told you about Francis?"

Kel shakes her head, watching the sparrows.

"We started our page training with a young boy, Francis of Nond. Your older sister is married to what would have been his nephew."

"Jacques," Kel says.

"Alanna was still a page then – she was younger than the Prince and our crowd. You would've heard of the sweating sickness? Well, Francis was the only squire to die of it. Jon – King Jonathan – told me later that Alanna felt guilty because she had the healing Gift but was afraid to use it. She felt that she could have saved him, so it was her fault he died."

Kel appreciates Raoul's effort in talking to her, and is fascinated by a glimpse into the lives of the Lioness and him as young pages and squires, but Raoul's comfort is not what she needs. She needs strong arms and cinnamon to hold her. She needs to forget she's a Knight and hide her Yamani mask. She needs to cry and hurt like a lost little girl.

"I miss him," Kel says instead, pulling her knees up and resting her chin on them. "I miss his sarcasm and his grumpiness in the morning. I even miss wanting to hit him."

Raoul chuckles and rests a warm hand on her back. "You were yearmates, Kel, and growing up together means you were perhaps closer than family. There is nothing wrong with grief, and no shame in crying. No one will think less of you for it."

Raoul hesitates, and then climbs to his feet. "Evening meal will be served soon, Kel, and it's a long ride tomorrow."

"Yes, sir."

She hears the sound of his footsteps as he moves away, and then they pause.

"Kel, sometimes grief drives people to do things they don't understand. That doesn't mean they didn't want to do it."

His footsteps fade away, and Kel is left alone in the field once more staring at the sparrows as they scavenge for seed. Had Raoul been watching he might have seen a young knight crying alone in a field of yellow daisies.

---

It's later summer when Third Company rides toward Corus. The leaves are changing to fire and flame colours, and the fields are long stretches of long grass bleached gold. Kel loves the last summer with its gentle breezes and sunny smells; so much warmer than early spring with mud and rain.

She closes her eyes and lets her body sway with Hoshi's steady gait; she trusts the mare to behave with her sweet temperament in a way she would never expect of Peachblossom. With her eyes closed, she rocks comfortably in the saddle, feeling the warmth of the evening sun gentle on her skin as the sweet smell of hay tickles her nose.

When she opens her eyes they've arrived at their campsite – a painted gelding stands out bright against the other bays and duns and dapple greys. Her insides clench and turn cold despite the summer sun; only one person she knows rides a painted horse.

Hoshi nickers and dances beneath Kel, eager for water and feed, and beside her Peachblossom stretches his neck out to the closest gelding picketed within reach. She pulls his head back in time, and glares at him with uneasy eyes. The gelding sighs and snorts in resignation.

Tobe steals away her reins when her booted feet slide to the ground; the young boy looking at her with something akin to sympathy on his face. Kel doesn't like to think he knows about one rainy night after she buried her best friend, but there's not much Tobe doesn't know.

With her horses being cared for, and a camp already built, Kel stands awkwardly between the picketed horses and tries to tell herself that she's being silly. She tries not to remember the smell taste of salty sweat on bronzed skin, and understands now why it's perhaps best for woman not to be soldiers.

"Come on, Mindelan," someone calls. Another jostles her back and she stumbles forward, one lead foot in front of another to where the campfire flickers and pops brightly and the soldiers are gathered.

Maybe, she hopes, something inside her will have faded with time again, just like it did for Neal and for Cleon. Maybe when she's sees him she'll know she's being silly and that it all meant nothing really.

Dom smiles at her crookedly with his ripe berry lips, but his eyes don't meet hers and he doesn't make room on the log for her as he once would have done. Instead she sits beside Merric and stares at her feet; her insides are clenching and she feels sick.

As the sun sets she watches him through the golden hazed smoke, wondering where it all went wrong.

---

The teak of her glaive is smooth and worn from years of service. Kel smoothes her fingers over the flawless surface while she keeps watch in the dark. Around her the woods are alive with small creatures gathering food and trading gossip. It's lonely at night when the stars are hidden by the trees and her comrades are snoring by their fires, and she wishes she could talk to the animals like Daine.

A branch snaps behind her, and she spins with her weapon raised.

"It's me, Kel."

Suddenly the woods around her don't matter; all she can hear is the thundering of her heart in her chest and the rushing of her blood in her veins. "You should be sleeping," she says.

She can't him very well in the dark, but the shape of his body looks uncomfortable.

"I couldn't sleep."

He's lying, she thinks, but she doesn't say anything.

"How've you been?" he asks in her silence.

She shrugs even though he probably can't see the movement in the dark. "Fine."

He's nervous now, shuffling his weight from foot to foot and raising his hand to rub at the back of his neck. "You're sure?"

She's not really sure she's fine, but she's not entirely sure why he's asking either. "What do you want me to say, Dom?" she asked tiredly. "That I spend all my time in the saddle pining away for you?"

"No."

She thinks her heart might have stopped, but she hasn't died so it's probably not possible. "You really should to be asleep," she says finally. "You have first watch, and you need your rest."

He ignores her comment. "I wanted to apologise, Kel."

She didn't think it was possible, but his words make her feel even worse inside. "You don't have to," she says stiffly.

"I used you, Kel, and you deserve better than that."

"You're right," she turns her back to him and stares out at the dark forest again. "I do deserve better."

"Kel." His hand alights on her shoulder, but she shrugs it off.

"Go to bed, Dom."

"For Mithros' sake, Kel, can't I even talk to you?" he demands loudly as he grabs hold of her arm.

The woods still for a second in surprise, and Kel turns to him angrily. "Do you want everyone to know?" she hisses.

She realises too late that he's too close. When he kisses her, her fingers tighten against the glaive and she sways on her feet. His hand on her arm steadies her gently as his lips brush against hers so lightly it tastes like a whisper.

"What are you doing?" she breathes, not moving away.

"Talking to you," he murmurs, kissing her again.

She should push him away; this is wrong and she's already so churned up inside this will only make things worse. But his lips are warm and soft against hers, like butter and honey, and she opens her mouth to taste more of him.

It changes abruptly from sweet warmth to a dark heat and she presses herself closer against him as fingers tangle in her hair and his tongue strokes her own. She feels like she's made of fire and ice, and hot apple cinnamon invades her soul.

"Everything under control out here?" a voice calls from the camp fire.

They break apart roughly; their breath rasping in their throats.

"Kel?" Merric calls again.

"All's well, Merric, it was just an owl," she calls back.

If her voice sounds strangled and her breathing is too loud, Merric doesn't say anything.

"It's my watch soon anyway, Kel, you might as well go to bed."

She doesn't want to go to bed; her heart is still drumming loudly in her chest and her lungs draw the cool night air in like a pair of giant bellows. Dom has disappeared, she realises, looking around, but the dark night blinds her and she can't see where he's gone.

"It's okay, Merric, I'll stay a bit longer. Go back to bed, I'll wake you in a while," Kel calls back softly.

Merric, silhouetted by the fire, raises his hand in acknowledgement and disappears back into the darkness surrounding his tent.

Kel fingers her glaive and stares at the forest, seeing nothing by darkness. She licks her lips; she can still taste a whisper of cinnamon.

---

_As usual, reviews and comments are very much appreciated - constructive criticism is especially adored!_


	2. frozen

**frozen**

Jump is a warm presence against her back, a solid comfort she appreciates as she lies in her bed before the sun breaks through the gloom. In the dim grey of the predawn light she lingers for one, two, three breaths longer than she should.

By the time the sun peaks over the snow-covered hills she's only half way through her exercises, her hands numb with cold against the stone floor. A soft knock intrudes, and she's only managed to pull her robe around her shoulders before a servant carefully slides the door open.

A young girl with smooth black hair is standing in the entrance, her arms holding several packages. "I'm sorry to disturb you, my Lady, but I've brought you your gifts."

It's her first midwinter home since New Hope, and she's surprised at the treasure pile of gifts. When did she make so many friends?

She unwraps them one by one, smiling at notes and remembering jokes. A Yamani hair comb, a book, a new leather jerkin, a whittled carving of a horse, a drawing of Peachblossom, polish for her glaive… She tries hard not to notice there's no gift from Neal this time. No book on philosophy she'll pretend she won't read; no dramas or tragedies over which she'll feign disdain. No messy scrawl of sarcasm veiling affection they both tried hard to hide.

Kel almost succeeds until she unwraps the porcelain image of a waving cat.

_I found this in his quarters at New Hope. He told me once you gave it to him a long time ago; I think he'd want you to have it._

_- Dom_

She's not sure what hurts more – the reminder of Neal's death or the bitter memories of a night that shouldn't have happened. The cat is porcelain and delicate; she wants to squeeze it in her hands and crumble it like sand. But she can't, because it was Neal's and she doesn't want to lose anymore of him as it is. She hides the cat in a small chest at the foot of her bed, and stares out the window at the snow for much too long.

---

They haven't really spoken since the last time he kissed her. Kel's not entirely sure that she wants to talk to him anyway. They sit on opposite sides of the dining hall, and when they do accidentally come in contact (which is not very often at all) they're painfully polite and take great care not to touch.

She misses Dom, she thinks one day as she watches him from across the hall. Misses his jokes and his wit and his smile. But something inside her is broken, and she's not certain she can fix it.

Kel's not good at people and feelings; she understands weapons and combat, strategy and tactics. Maybe if life was a battle she'd find it easier, but she's learnt that life is more like politics, and unfortunately she missed out on her father's talent for diplomatics.

---

Her glaive slices and whistles through the air; she loves the smoothness and the flow of one swing into the next. The courtyard around her fades and all that she sees is the glint of the blade and the blur of the wood in her hands.

She completes her final thrust and pauses, catching her breath. Sweat drips into her eyes and sticks her short hair to her cheeks in straggly clumps.

"Anyone ever told you those things are dangerous?" a mild voice enquires.

Dom is leaning against a padded wall, his stance deceptively calm. But Kel knows Dom better than he thinks; she can see the tension in his shoulders and the tightness in his lips. His gaze skirts and dances and flits to and fro as though he wants to look at her but the sight of her scares him.

"Not as dangerous as some things."

She wondered when she became so good at veiled conversations; saying one thing and meaning another.

Dom sighs and scrubs a hand through his hair; she recognises the gesture as one Neal used to make when he couldn't choose between frustration and uncertainty.

"I didn't meant for it to happen," he blurts out. Kel's happy to see his cheeks flush, though she's not sure if it's shame or embarrassment.

Kel's had almost a year to think about what happened, and as time went by she realised that caring less was the only way to make the hurt go away. "I realised that when you were gone by the time I woke."

She can see her words sting.

"Kel, I really like you."

"You have a strange way of showing it."

She's not used to seeing Dom unsure of himself. "Kel, I can't… I can't offer you anything."

"Did you ever hear me ask for anything?" She know she's lying; she wanted everything from him, and he heard it when she kissed him.

"You're not making this easy for me," he points out.

"Is there a reason I should make it easy?"

He scowls. "You don't have to go out of your way to make it difficult."

Something inside her snaps, and her Yamani mask shatters for the first time in a long, long time. "Everything about this is difficult! I'm supposed to be a knight, Dom. I'm supposed to be strong and brave and not stumble when I'm confronted with a challenge. Everyone says women can't be knights because they're weak and let their emotions dictate their actions. You helped prove them right, Dom."

"You're not expected to have no emotions, Kel," Dom argues.

"Yes I am. That's why you came to me, because I wasn't supposed to read anything into it."

"Did you?" he asked.

Her eyes are burning, but she refuses to let tears escape. "No, I didn't. But you thought I would. That's why you pretend I don't exist."

The lie tastes bitter one her tongue, like bile.

"Maybe I'm the one who made the mistake, Kel. Damn it, you're one of my commanders, I'm not supposed look at you that way."

"What way?"

He's quite for a long time, studying her. "It doesn't matter."

She wants to argue, to beg him to tell her, but she's got too much pride and is too much of a coward.

"So what do we do now?" she asks.

He shrugs. "Move on, I guess."

She feels cold inside, like the snow lying outside on the ground. "So this is it?"

A small smile tugs at his lips. "No," he says. "Neal wouldn't have wanted us to end our friendship over this."

Her throat tightens with something she doesn't recognise, but she nods her head stiffly, her Yamani mask once again firmly in place. "I'll see you at the noon meal then."

"I'll save you a seat."

Kel watches him leave the indoor courtyard, his back to straight and his shoulders too stiff. She thinks maybe she just lost something important, but she's too cold and numb inside to feel the jagged pain of loss.

---

_Feedback, comments, and constructive criticism is good for me - it helps me write more, and helps me write better :)_


	3. faded

**faded **

It's an early morning, warm sunshine with just the right amount of breeze. Kel saddles up Peachblossom – he tosses his head and twitches his tail, eager to feel grass under his hooves and wind in his mane – and tells Merric he's in command until she comes back.

Owen wants to go with her. "It's not right letting you ride by yourself, Kel, what if something goes wrong?" If it were anyone but Owen, Kel would be upset at the words, but Owen is her friend and he cares – he doesn't think she can't look after herself.

"Knights used to ride alone all the time, not so long ago."

"They didn't have Spidrens or Hurroks or Giants so long ago," Owen huffs.

"I've got Jump, the sparrows, and Peachblossom with me, Owen, I'll hardly be alone."

He's not happy to let her leave, but she promises she won't go far from New Hope, telling him she just wants to get a feel for the land after a season away. "Don't forget Dom and his squad are due today."

It's not likely she'd forget, Kel thinks as she turns Peachblossom towards the small stream, but she pretends its not the reason she needs to get away for a while.

The inhabitants of New Hope – Kel refuses to call them refugees now, when this is their home – wave as she passes. One or two stop her to talk. She smiles at them politely and listens to their stories, their problems, and the work they've accomplished. Kel is proud of the lives these people have made.

She leaves Peachblossom untethered, reins and stirrups secured, and lets him graze and wander where he pleases. She trusts Peachblossom not to abandon her, though she wouldn't trust him with a million other things.

The ground is still damp from the evening dew, so she chooses a flat rock starting to warm in the sun. She plucks her boots from her feet and rolls her hose to her knees, letting her toes dangle in the icy cold water.

A myriad of fine white scars criss-cross her legs, some brighter than others, and fresh scratches with thin scabs threatening to leave more. It's not an easy life, being a knight, but Kel never imagined it would be.

Her body is scarred by battle; a map of history written with the blood of her wounds. Jagged marks on her fingers the legacy of a griffin; rough gouges in her left thigh marking the day when she beat her fear of heights. On her right calf there's an uneven lump of scar where an arrow grazed her in her second year as a page. She knows there are more marks under her tunic – blemishes in her skin of bruises never quite healed, and jagged reminds of each skirmish fought, mementos as though she might accidentally forget.

Staring at her reflection distorted by ripples and eddies, Kel muses she can see the bruising of her heart reflected in her eyes. Love, she thinks bitterly, is not as easy jousting or as tangible as war. It flickers and flutters and burns, doing what it pleases and leaving when it chooses.

Kel studies her reflection, and hopes that the scar on her heart has faded.

---

She's on the western wall with Sergeant Olenka, discussing archer's vantage points and whether blazebalm is feasible, when a horn blares in the distance.

"It's Sergeant Domitan and his squads, sir," the watch calls.

Kel watches them draw closer, relieved that the tightness in her chest doesn't hurt as much as it did before. When the gates are opened and the procession enters Kel smiles and nods at them, waving her hand in greeting.

Dom bows appropriately, snapping a salute. Her eyes meet with his; there's a little warmth in her belly and a jump in her heart, but it's feeble at best. She thinks maybe the fire burnt itself out and all it left behind are embers to be buried by sand and cast away.

She doesn't want to think that it's bitterness blunting her soul and dulling the hurt.

---

Dom's in the stable brushing his gelding. Kel watches as his arms move in long, even strokes, and remembers the feel of his hands on her skin.

"I was going to talk to you after dinner," he says, not looking up from his work, "but you disappeared."

"I needed to look at the letters you brought," Kel explains. "Need another hand?"

Dom grins at her, and for a heartbeat Kel thinks her breath will catch in her throat. The moment passes and she feels strangely empty. "I'm only brushing him again because Daine said he likes it, it's not something that needs to be done."

She was wondering why he was brushing his horse for the second time, and a smile touches her lips. "Then he'll like two people doing it twice as much."

The gelding snorts his agreement, his ears flicking this way and that.

"Well, find a brush."

She stands on one side and him on the other. They work in silence, only the sound of bristles through fur whispering in the air.

"I wanted to apologise," Kel says, repeating the words he spoke to her one night long ago.

"For what?" he asks.

"You weren't the only one who made a mistake. It was just as much my mistake as it was yours, only I laid the blame completely on you."

"You didn't," he starts, but she shakes her head to silence him.

"I did. I was angry at you for leaving without saying a word, and I was angry at you for being right, for treating it like a mistake, because it _was_ a mistake. But I didn't want it to be a mistake."

The horse swishes his tail and she realises they've stopped brushing. Grimly, she tightens her fingers around the brush and starts again, her strokes long and deep and determined.

"You didn't?" Dom asks quietly.

"My best friend had just died, Dom," she says, her voice so quiet she wonders how he can hear it. "I was… I don't know. I wanted something. Something to remind me that I wasn't alone, even though it felt like I was." She frowns, annoyed by her stumbled speech. "I'm not making much sense, am I?"

"Nothing unusual about that," he says airily.

Kel sighs, lowers her brush, and presses her face against the horse's hindquarters. She breathes in the rich smell and feels the warmth against her skin. "I think I missed out on learning how to be a woman," she confides, scratching the gelding's belly with her scarred fingers.

"I think you were a very good woman." She can hear the smile on his voice. "You still are."

Her cheeks burn hot; she presses her face closer to the horse, trying to hide from Dom's eyes.

"You know, Mindelan, if I were a knight this wouldn't be a problem," he says casually.

"What do you mean?" she asks, looking at him at last.

"I can't… I can't leave the King's Own, Kel. Not yet."

But knights can get married, she thinks, and wishes it was that easy.

There's a painted horse and a lifetime standing between them. She stares into his eyes, so serious and sorry, and forces a smile to touch her lips.

"I don't really want babies now anyway," she tells him.

He smiles too, but it's as broken as the painted on her lips. "Then everything's fine."

The horse shifts irritably. Kel starts to brush again, not breaking his gaze. "Maybe one day it will be."

---

The smell of cinnamon fades from her dreams, and the bruise on her heart only aches sometimes when she feels his smile brush her soul or the faded ghost touch of his fingers on her skin.

---

_Please let me know what you think - if people let you know how you're doing you know where to work on improving :)_


	4. starved

**starved**

Buri and Raoul have beautiful babies. Kel's used to playing with babies – New Hope has plenty and Kel's family isn't far behind in number. The little one in her arms seems too tiny to be real. Sapphire blue eyes that will darken to deep brown blink up at her sleepily. Tiny little fingers are butterfly wings against her roughened skin, and plump strawberry lips curl wide in a yawn.

"I'd better put her down," Buri says, holding her arms out for her child.

Kel hands the babe over reluctantly, surprised by the fierceness for the little one burning inside. She watches as Buri – someone she never saw as a mother – coos and cuddles the little bundle, leaving the room with a soft swish of satin and a lingering fragrance of light perfume. Kel wonders when Buri stopped being a warrior and turned into a woman.

"I'm very lucky," Raoul says.

She looks at him; his large frame sprawled across a seat and legs stretch in front of him. Yes, she thinks, he is lucky. "You have a lovely family," Kel says politely, a smile touching her lips.

"What about you, Keladry of Mindelan?"

A blush stains her cheek. "I haven't got time for a family. New Hope keeps me busy."

Raoul nods as though he accepts what she's saying, but she served him for long years and recognises the look in his eye – he's not done with his prying yet. Keladry sighs to herself and wonders if she could possibly find some excuse to leave, but she knows it's already too late. She's a guest at Goldenlake, and it would be rude to just leave.

Kel prays for bandits or immortals or some kind of trouble.

Raoul smiles. "Wipe that look off your face Keladry, and stop trying to find a way to get out of the ball. No matter how hard you pray, the gods will laugh in your face and refuse to send a catastrophe for you to attend." He pauses, and looks at her, before his lips break into a broad grin. "Mithros knows, I prayed often enough with no results!"

Kel still doesn't believe that Raoul and Buri of Goldenlake are hosting a ball in their home. But they have a darling new baby to show off, she remembers belatedly, and babies turn the most sensible people into murmuring dolts.

---

Kel doesn't know how it's possible to be so alone in a room filled with people. The constant murmur of their conversation and laughter washes over her in a dull wave, but she can't seem to make out the individual voices or words. She's being silly, she thinks, staring at her grape juice, but there's something gnawing inside her and she's scared it might be eating away her soul.

"You're awfully quiet tonight."

When the Lioness stands she's only just taller than Kel who is seated. "I have nothing to say."

Alanna's lips quirk into a smile. "Move over," she orders.

Kel obeys – she's had too many years following orders without question to put up a fight, and anyway, one doesn't argue with the King's Champion. The older woman sits with a sigh of relief, massaging a thigh with a sun-stained hand. Kel tries not to stare at the woman sitting next to her. For so long this short, sharp, jaded woman was a hero to Kel's imagination. There was nothing the Lioness could not do, and because the Lioness could do it, Kel could do it too.

Now the Lioness is old, her joints creaking with pain and her skin leathered with age.

Is this what Kel wants when she's too old to change?

But Kel is already too old to change.

"It's hard, isn't it?" Alanna says suddenly.

"I'm sorry?"

"Wondering if you made the right decision to be a knight."

Kel smiles. "I don't regret it."

"But you're wondering if there is something more," Alanna says sagely. "I was lucky. I got my shield and disappeared into the wilderness. I wasn't the talk of the court during my training – well, not because I was a girl anyway," Alanna amends.

"None of that matters," Kel says.

"Doesn't it?" Alanna asks quietly. "For years after people found out the truth I wasn't Alanna anymore; I was 'that strange woman who's pretending to be a knight'."

"How did you change it?" Kel asks curiously.

Alanna laughs. "I never said I'm not still 'the strange woman who's pretending to be a knight'. There will always be people who won't accept you, Kel. You have to learn to accept that they don't matter."

"They don't matter," Kel says blandly. "They never did."

Alanna has been the King's Champion for years, she is not stupid. "Whatever you're worried about, Kel, you have friends you can talk to," Alanna says quietly. In an uncharacteristic display of affection, the Lioness squeezes Kel's shoulder before she stands up and walks away.

Kel watches her go, hiding a sigh as the Lioness' husband smiles at his wife and slips an arm around her waist.

She still feels empty inside.

---

The emptiness yawns inside her, hungry, consuming. She eats candied jellies and creamed tarts. The main course is heavy and solid in her gut but she eats small mints and crisp apples and tiny sugar creations spun so they sparkle like diamonds. Warm crusty bread rolls and rich thick soup, and she drinks silken red wine until she feels like she's floating on an empty ocean.

She's eaten and eaten and filled herself up but the emptiness is still there and it just won't go away. The world spins and she rocks on her lonely boat in the vastness, trying to find something. Anyone.

Raoul's hands are on her arms, his face swimming before her. She tries to tell him she's hungry so hungry. She tastes the salt of the ocean on her lips and realises the salt is her tears.

The food inside her roils and churns; Raoul steadies her outside as she empties herself and her soul and her heart onto a dusty dry earth under a cloudless summer sky.

"Gods, Mindelan," he says gently, wiping her tears, "if you keep everything inside it just eats you up. Don't you know that by now?"

She thinks she kept too much inside and it ate everything she was. It's hungry now because she has nothing left to feed it.

He hugs her, big hands rubbing her back and heart thumping against her ear. She could stay here forever, she thinks, closing her eyes, but she can smell Buri's perfume and the soft baby scent and knows she has to let him go.

Raoul has a family, and Kel has a posting.

She can't walk a straight line or make her lips work. She can't even stand or her keep her head in one place. Raoul leaves her propped against a stone wall, the stench of her retching souring the air.

"Come on, Kel," someone calls.

For one dizzying, heartbreaking second she sees Neal, and he's disappointed in her. But the wine is playing tricks on her mind and it's only Dom with sorrowed blue eyes.

"It's okay, sir, I'll see her to her room by the back way."

"Thank you, Dom," Raoul says, helping Dom to drag her to her feet. The world tilts and sways and Keladry wonders if this is what it feels like when you're about to die.

---

She feels better when Dom pushes the door to the guest room open. He has one of her arms slung around his shoulder, and one of his slung around her waist. Her feet scrabble and scrape for purchase on a floor that won't stay still.

"Easy, Kel," he says, dragging her toward her bed. "Almost there."

For one second the world spins and sways in a dizzying whirl, and Kel finds herself flat on her back on her bed. Dom's looking down at her, but the room is dark and she can't see his eyes. She's scared the darkness is coming from her and will eat him up too.

The darkness is a ravaged, starved beast; she gropes blindly for something to chase it away.

"Shh," Dom murmurs, catching her hand with his and holding it still. "Just breathe, Kel." He sits holding her hand in the dark until someone arrives.

"Let me have a look at her," Alanna says. She sounds far away, her voice tinny and pulled by time and by drink. Rough fingers touch her temples; Kel feels cool and floats on a breeze of purple sky.

---

When she opens her eyes Alanna is gone. A single candle on the mantel chases away the dark. Dom sits by her side, still holding her hand.

"You're drunk," he tells her, fingers kneading her palm.

"My head hurts," she whispers.

"Alanna magicked you. Said she couldn't change how drunk you were already, but she stopped it from getting worse."

Kel closes her eyes; shamed. She fights her tears, but they're not as easy to tame as they once were.

"Why didn't you say anything, Kel?" Dom asks quietly.

"About what?"

He barks a sharp bitter laugh she's never heard from him before. "About what, the girl says," he mimics. "About what's going on in here." He taps her forehead with his fingers, but the gentleness in his touch doesn't fit the anger in his voice. "We're your friends, Kel. We care about you. You need to talk to people if you hurt."

She doesn't hurt; she's empty inside. Starved.

His fingers are still tangled with hers. She grips them tightly, trying to find something inside him to help her fight the tears. She fails, and they slip from her lashes like hot drops of blood.

"Oh, Kel," he murmurs.

The feel of his lips against her skin is a butterfly kiss, his tongue licking away the salt. She reaches for him blindly, searching, and knots her fingers in his hair, holding his cheek against her own. His warm breath brushes moistly against her skin, the stubble on his cheeks rough against the smoothness of her own.

She lies still as he moves his head away and traces her lips with his fingers. The callused tips wander from her lips to her chin, the curve of her jaw and the sensitive skin behind her ear. She swallows; he presses his fingers against the whisper of her heartbeat.

The bed dips beneath his weight as he moves from the chair to sit beside her, still running his fingers over the smoothness of her skin. She's silent when eh pulls his fingers away and draws his tunic from his body. By the light of a single candle his skin as golden and smooth as she remembered it.

She touches him with her hands and he shudders beneath her lips.

---

Afterwards, he blows out the candle. She lies in the dark with his arm around her waist, lips bruised and skin stained with salt. She still feels empty inside, but the hunger has faded, and the darkness as turned to a dark silver grey.


	5. whispered

**whispered**

Kel has always been strong. She doesn't like failing at anything, much less failing at life. Her cheeks burn with shame when she thinks about her loss of control, and the only thing that keeps her from turning her head into the pillow and crying (even though Keladry doesn't cry) is Dom's arm around her waist and his chest pressed firmly against her back.

She likes the warmth of lying in his arms, the way cinnamon clings to the air and the way his breath blows gently against the nape of neck. She's never slept entire night through with anyone before, and she thinks she likes waking up with their limbs tangled and the sheets a warm nest around them.

But Kel doesn't like failing, and his presence in her bed burns her pride. She wriggles out from his arms and stands with bare feet and body on the thick rug beside the bed, watching him for long moments.

Sleeping, he looks different to how she's ever seen him before. There is no laughter in his eyes, and his lashes curl like butterfly wings against his angle cheek bones. His hair is rumpled and mussed; she remembers it felt like warm silk and velvet between her fingers. She longs to touch him and ascertain that he's real.

She turns before she can touch him; she will not give in to another weakness.

---

The late-summer morning is dried roses and daisies and a sweet breeze against her skin. It tangles clover fingers in her hair and kisses her cheeks with bruised petal lips. A whisper of winter laces the breeze, and Kel pulls the light robe tightly around her body to ward off the chill.

"It's not nice to leave without saying goodbye."

"You've learnt something in the last two years," she says. The words are sharp and bitter, and she learns that it's possible to draw blood without lifting a weapon.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, looking down at her where she's crouching against the wall.

"Fine."

Looking up at him standing over her in nothing but breeches, Kel wonders what will happen next. For a few moments she contemplates the scandal and rumours if someone sees him standing here on her small balcony half undressed, but she's realistic enough to realise the damage was done last night when she lost control.

"Don't lie to me, Kel," he says simply. "What happened last night?"

The problem is she doesn't know what happened. She doesn't know what went wrong. By the light of the day it all seems so far away and unreal. If it weren't for the burning ache of shame in her gut, she would think it was all a nightmare. But it wasn't a nightmare, it was real.

"Kel?"

"I don't know, Dom," she says quietly. She can't meet his eyes, so she stares between the stone columns of the railings and pretends to be interested in the distance.

He sits down next to her, close enough so their shoulders and hips and thighs brush. He's warm against the kiss of winter in the air, but she doesn't lean toward him.

"We've never really talked, have we?" Dom says thoughtfully.

"Of course we've talked," Kel disagrees, confused. "We talk all the time."

He smiles at her, his eyes gentle. Kel feels lost, as though she's missed something important again.

"We never talk about how we feel."

Kel never talks about how she feels. The Yamanis teach that expression of emotion is a weakness, and Kel has fought long and hard to be anything but weak.

"You've got your Yamani face on again," he says, nudging her with his shoulder. There's a glint in his eye, but it's overpowered by an unfamiliar sobriety she's only seen a few times before. "Kel, as much as you respect and admire the Yamani, you aren't Yamani."

"The Yamani are strong," Kel says quietly, averting her gaze before her eyes give too much away. "Their strength isn't equalled by anyone else, Dom."

"That's true," he agrees, "but it's also one of their biggest downfalls."

The words surprise her – she has never considered the Yamani calm and control to be a flaw. Her entire life the Yamani training has guided her well and seen her to success. The thought that something fundamental to her being could be wrong… Kel doesn't like to think that.

"No," she says. "The Yamani don't let things like emotion or fear stop them from achieving great things. The men of the emperor fight with broken arms, and they walk through snow storms as if they're nothing more than spring showers. Tell me that isn't enviable, Dom?"

"It is enviable," Dom agrees. "But how happy are they, Kel? How much do they enjoy life?"

Kel opens her mouth to tell him they're happy, a people with a lot of enjoyment of life, but she can't say the words. She doesn't know they're true, she realises, because the Yamani never show what they feel.

"You see?" Dom whispers in her ear. "Maybe sometimes it's good to tell people things. To let yourself feel things. I think the Yamani are a wonderful people and very, very strong, but I think they sometimes forget what's important in life."

"And I suppose that you know what's important," Kel snaps.

He smiles his gentle smile again, the one that makes her feel like a silly kitten who doesn't know what she's doing wrong. "Of course I do," he says.

"What?" she asks.

Dom kisses her with dry lips, a fleeting brush like the whisper of the breeze in the grass stalks, and smiles at her. "You'll find out," he says. "You've just got to learn to trust other people, the way we all trust you."

He disappears into the room. The ghost of his kiss lingers on her lips and whispers to something inside her. It aches, she thinks, a piercing ache that is so beautiful it hurts.

---

Kel knows she can't avoid the world forever, but she longs to be able to stay in her rooms, hiding until the memory of her shameful behaviour fades away. But Keladry has never been afraid to own up to her mistakes, and she is not about to start acting like a coward. She squares her shoulders and straightens her tunic, her Yamani calm her shield and her courage a sword.

The hour is late, she realises, and the dining hall is empty.

"You missed breakfast. It's okay, we saved you some," Raoul says, appearing behind her and bearing a plate. "How are you this morning?"

"I'm fine," she says, accepting the food. "Thank you, sir."

"Sit, Keladry."

She obeys, waiting for further instruction.

"Mithros' shield, girl, eat your food before it gets cold."

She eats, though the food has no taste nor does she realise what she's eating. Only when she's finished and pushes the plate away does Raoul nod his head and lean his elbows on the table between them. "Now," he says calmly, "you and I are going to have a talk."

Kel swallows. She knows what's coming.

"And before you start thinking we're about to take away your shield, you should know you're not the first knight that's been drunk. And, though it pains me to say it, you're not the last that will find that state either. Have you learnt your lesson, Keladry?"

"Yes, sir," she says quietly.

"And what lesson would that be?" he questions.

"To not drink wine."

He sighs when he looks at her, his eyes sad. "No," he says, "I don't think you learnt your lesson."

She frowns. "Oh, I did. I'm not going to drink every again," she says emphatically.

"I don't doubt that," Raoul says, and she's confused by the trace of humour in his voice. "What did Dom say to you this morning?"

Her cheeks flame and she stares at her empty plate.

"Kel, none of us are stupid or blind. In fact, I'm tempted to believe that out of everyone who knows the two of you, the both of you are by far the silliest and blindest of the lot."

"I'm sorry," Kel whispers. "I tried-" She falls silent, swallowing the words that nearly spilled out.

"Now we're getting somewhere," Raoul says kindly. She doesn't understand his kindness or the gentleness in his eyes – it's almost the same way Dom looked at her this morning.

"When you were my squire, I warned you against certain… activities," he says delicately, and despite the gravity of the discussion, Kel feels a smile quirk her lips at the sight of the light blush staining his cheeks. "Sometimes, advice can apply to one situation but not another."

"Forgive me, sir," Kel says, tiring of veiled talk, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Raoul sighs. "You and Dom aren't serving under the same commander. You're not even stationed near each other. If you and Dom were to… to _court_, there would be no harm done or rules broken."

Kel's mouth opens in a silent 'o' but nothing comes out.

"Now. Back to what we were discussing before. You need to learn to talk to people, Kel. You are a fine commander, one of the best in the service, but command is a heavy load to bear by ones' self."

"You bore it just fine, sir," Kel points out gruffly. "Just because-"

"This has nothing to do with you being a girl," Raoul interrupts. "When I was a commander I had friends who I spoke to. I told them when I was scared or unsure or didn't know what to do. You might be surprised to find the things friends can help you with, Kel. No one will think less of you for telling them how you feel."

Kel remembers Neal helping her as a page. She remembers them swapping maths problems for etiquette advice and help with a staff weapon. She remembers fighting bullies, and confessing her fear of failure to him late one night when everything looked dark.

Raoul smiles. "I think," he says, "you're beginning to understand."

---

The arrows whistle through the air and thud with a solid whump into the target. She lifts another to her bow and aims, releases. Another arrow. Aim. Release. Aim. Release.

There is a calmness that comes only with focusing on a small target in the distance. Kel notices nothing except the weapon in her hands and the small mark on the target. The motions empty her mind and free her soul in a way nothing else does.

Another arrow hits the mark with a satisfying thump.

Thump.

Thump.

"You've gotten good."

"I've always been good," Kel retorts as she strings another arrow.

"I meant what I said this morning, Kel," Dom says.

Thump.

"I didn't understand what you said this morning," Kel replies.

Thump.

Dom sighs. "I was trying to say-"

"I think I understand now," Kel interrupts.

Thump.

"You do?" Dom asks.

Kel nods. "From now on, I'll tell you when I have a crush and I'll ask you what colour I should wear to the midwinter ball. And I expect you to giggle with me about all the young men who try and impress us," she adds.

"Are you mocking me, Kel?" Dom asks, narrowing his eyes.

"Never," Kel says firmly. "That would be insensitive."

Dom smiles widely. "So who _do_ you have a crush on, Keladry of Mindelan?"

Kel eyes him sidelong, before turning to her bow again.

"Oh, just this man I know."

Thump.

"Really?"

"Really," she nods. "Only, I have a confession to make."

"You do?"

Thump.

"Yes."

"Well, if I'm your best friend you better tell me."

"Well, this man expects a lot from me," she says quietly. She can't look at him suddenly as the sky presses in and she feels weighed under by the fear.

"I don't think he'd expect more from you than was possible," Dom replies carefully.

"He wants me to trust him, see," Kel says. "I do trust him. I trust him with my life. But he wants… he wants…"

Dom's hand rests on her arm, pushing the bow down and turning her so that she has to look at him. His eyes stare into hers, and she's never felt as bare or naked under his gaze as she does now.

"What does he want?"

"I think he wants me to trust him with my heart," she says. "And my soul."

"You trust him with your life. Is it so much harder to trust him with your heart and your soul?"

Kel nods. "Oh," she says, "it's very hard. It's hard to let him in sometimes, because I'm so scared of not living up to expectations."

He smiles. "I think you'll always exceed his expectations."

"It's only fair," Kel continues, swallowing roughly, "that I tell him I don't want babies right now or marriage or that sort of thing."

"Then what do you want from him?"

"Someone… someone who I can talk to. Who listens to me. Who cares about me. I want him to hold me when I want to cry, and to tell me when it's okay to cry."

"I bet he'll pinch you to make sure you cry when you need too," Dom says solemnly.

Kel laughs, and for the first time in a long time she feels light inside.

"So who is it, Kel?" Dom asks, also grinning. "This man who you happen to know."

"I don't just know him," Kel says. "I love him."

His breath catches in his throat. "Kel?"

"I can't promise anything, Dom," Kel says hurriedly, "it's hard to trust the way you want me to. But I'll try. I promise I'll try."

She's in his arms before she's finished babbling, and he's holding her tightly against him. Her fingers dig into his back through his tunic, but he doesn't complain.

"That's okay, Kel, that's okay," he tells her, crushing her against him. "All you need to do is try."

She smells his cinnamon and leather and apple pie skin and presses her cheek against his chest. Tears prick at her eyelids, and she tries to hide her face against him, but he pulls her back and looks at her. "Don't be ashamed of crying, Kel," he tells her gravely. "Don't be ashamed of loving either. Even men love, you know."

"Really?" she asks through her tears, fingers still tangled in his clothes.

"Really," he tells her, and kisses the salt drops away with warm lips and a whisper of his soul.

---

_And that, I'm afraid, is it! I wanted to say thank you to everyone who sent me reviews on this. I wasn't planning on finishing it because I didn't think anyone actually read it, given how dark and prose-like it was. To say I was astounded by the response would be an understatement – the reviews, in this case, literally prompted me to finish it, and not on an egotistical review counting basis but because people actually _wanted_ it finished, if that makes any sense._

_  
Anyhow, I'm so happy you read it and I hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for sticking by it, and please take the time to let me know what you thought of the ending; I'm not very good at endings usually._

_Cheers,_

_Silf_


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